What Friends Do
by MTCrazy17
Summary: Another night in the flat of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, but what Sherlock doesn't know is just how human and just how caring he could be tonight. John had a desision to make and only with the help of Sherlock will he be able to make it.


John was looking out the window when he burst out the most random thing ever on a text: If you could pick sombody to be Prime Minister, who would it be? -JW

Me, obviously. -SH

I..agree...-JW

Oh. - SH

Hmm. What idiot said that it couldn't be me? - SH

Sherlock...alittle too confident...?-JW

But you agree. That means you elected me, and therefore it is possible. Problem solved. - SH

Yes but, ignorents towards your fellow rivals, isn't the best way to go around this if you ever wanted to become Prime Minister...-JW

Wait. You aren't implying that you're my rival, are you? Because to my knowledge it is only the spy and yourself who are witness to this conversation. Therefore, I am currently displaying no ignorance. -SH

Like I'd ever want to be your rival. That's your brother or Moriarty. I'm just that loyal friend. I'm just giving you advice Sherlock, thats all. Take it or leave it. - JW

Hmm. I suppose you're right. Though neither is really all too much of a challenge... And your advice is noted. - SH

And appreciated. - SH

..um...I-um...your welcome. - JW

You're. Please, John. - SH

Hmm? Oh yeah. sorry. - JW

No trouble, really. What are you doing now, anyway? Would you make tea? - SH

Please? - SH

Oh alright...I can't really ever say no to you. No sugar correct..? - JW

I know. And yes. Bring it to the sofa. - SH

Sure, oh and I was just about to watch some telly. Going to join me then? - JW

Some more of your crap telly? Certainly. - SH

Haha, I should'nt let you watch that stuff too often. It'll rot your brain. By the way, did they ever figure out if the man was the boy's father? Never got to finish it. - JW

Please, John. My brain is far too advanced to be "rotted." And obviously - you could easily tell from the similar eye and hair color, not to mention the identical bone structure in the hands.

Yes, yes. Of course. Here's your bloody tea. By the way...um..speaking of Presidents...I wanted to run something by you..if it's okay...you may be alittle well shocked. - JW

"Thank you." Sherlock said "And you realize that since you're currently standing next to me that you no longer have to text, correct? And what would that be?"

John looked up from his phone "Ah, yeah, thanks for reminding me." he chuckled and sat in his chair "Well...your brother rang me a few days ago...more like kidnaped me again. Now don't get fussy, this wasn't about you."

Sheslock raised a brow, frowning. "Oh, did he? And what did he have to say, if it wasn't about me?"

"Well the weird thing was, it was about me. He said he looked up my files in the Army. Something the Prime Minister wanting to give me. Something for Bravery, I don't know...anyways, I didn't kow what to do about it so he said I had a few days to think it through." He smirked "I'd rather not be honored for living when all my other friends died, thank you very much...but still to get some recommendation wouldn't be all that bad too right...?"

"Hmm. Interesting. Mycroft usually doesn't do anything such as this without a false incentive. However, if the Prime Minister is involved, I doubt that it could have too many negative repercussions. If it is truely an award, then I suppose it couldn't be too bad at all." Sherlock gave a slight smile. "Congratulations, John."

The shorter of the two men blinked and smiled back "Thanks." but as soon as his smile rose the the sooner it left. "I still don't really know if I should take this...I mean this is Mycroft were talking about, and much bigger, the bloody Prime Minister!" he wached the screen with an unsure look on his face "There's tons of other blokes out there that are way more deserving."

"I don't think I should really be awarded for just doing my job as a Doctor..." He aded sadly.

Their eyes were both trained on the screen now. "Au contraire, my dear Watson. You've most definitely earned it. You returned home from service with an injured shoulder and a psychologic deficiency - you're welcome for the cure, by the way. Besides, without you, more people would have been killed. I think you're the most deserving man of an award that I know of."

John turned his head to looks at the black haired man, both honored to hear that and shocked. Did Sherlock Holmes really just say that? He Smiled alittle brighter before looking back to the screen "Um...I-I would say thank you but, I don't think thats the best words to use, since I've been using it alot lately...wish there was something better I could come up with." He scratches at his short hair in fustration, still thinking about it. "Hey i'm not the only one. Didn't you say they threaten to Knight you once.?" he chuckled "I don't see why thats as terrible."

A deep baritone Chuckle escaped Sherlock. "Honeslty, John, you don't need to thank me every time I give a compliment. I don't do it that rar- I see your point. Ignore that. And yes, Mycroft has threatened me with that multiple times. I think that he actually suggests it to annoy me." He glared at the wall. "I told him to knock it off years ago... Anyway, that's purely a title. Now awards... awards are good. You can display awards. I reccomend accepting."

John smirks at him "Knighthood. It's a pretty cool tittle. Wait, your cool enough so yeah, don't bother with it mate". he laughed. "Still "Sir" Sherlock. Not too bad, I can see that. An award...well yeah okay you can do alot with one but...I feel like it shoud be the ones who died that get it..instead of me. I was the lone suvivor in that unit...it doesn't make me their repersentive or anything." He rested his now head on his hand, watching the talk show on the eyes began to blur with the memories.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Titles. Titles are boring. But thank you. I suppose the name does have a bit of a ring to it... but it's surely because of the 'Sherlock Holmes' part, not the 'Sir'." His expression softened, and he moved, turning to look at John. "And despite his thick-headedness, I'm sure that Mycroft is aware that you think of it as that. He knows that without you, they would have died sooner. Without you, they wouldn't have lived long enough to be able to deserve the award." His pale grey eyes flickered back to the screen. "He knows you're not their representative. He just believes that you deserve to be honoured for what you did. And you do deserve that, John."

John blinked rapidly, trying to keep his eyes fixed on anything but his slightly saking hands. "...If I tried harder...they wouldn't have died at all..." He breahted out a shaky sigh "Fine...I'll get it the blasted award...but for them. I know they would've wanted me to get it." He moved in his seat stiffly, reflexing his hand. "Anyways...I wouldn't mind showing it off to a few friends of mine...namely girls." He smiled a fake smile back.

The Dectective noticed his friends shaking and sighed, moving to kneel beside his chair. Taking one of his hands, he gently applied pressure to several points around the palm and wrist, slowly calming the shakes. "There, relax, John. None of it was your fault. And I'm sure it will help you get all of the women you want..." He rolled his eyes despite the small smile turning up the corners of his lips.

John stiffened even more at the touch of Sherlock's cool hands on his, but little by little he relaxed. He took a shuddering breath, trying to regain some control before smiling weakly, choking out a few words "S-Sorry...I...I mean thanks..again..." He didn't pull away from Sherlock's hand, finding it almost...comforting.

His mouth twitches again as John flinched, but he did't comment. "Yes, no problem. I would have assumed that as a doctor, you may have been more knowledgable of the soothing pressure points in the wrist and palm..." He tsked, his smile never leaving. His fingers lingered lazily on John's open palm, despite it having already ceased shaking.

"I'm not that good of a Doctor when it comes to me being the paitent..." He smiled thinly, trying to regulate his breathing again, whispering the last few words "Sherlock...I think I'm okay now, you don't need to go through all this with me really...I'm fine."

Sherlock raised a brow again, but didn't question his response. Dropping John's hand, he stood, adjusted his shirt, and promptly dropped gracefully into his chair. "Whatever you say, Dr. Watson." A mischevious glint came to his eyes. "However, your accelerated pulse and respiration say otherwise."

John chuckled quitely. "Sure, sure. If not a Knight, you could always pick up on becoming a Doctor. Your oddly good at it." He smirked back at him, before turning back to the still playing screen. "What you did ..um..it was...helpful...tha-I mean...God, I really wish I new something else besides thank you..." He gaves him a slanted smile instead "To say I owe you wouldn't be enough."

He smiled genuinely before once again watching the pictures on the screen. His mind was elsewhere, however. "Dr. Holmes. Hmm, not bad. Better than 'Sir', anyway. And, as I said, you do not have to thank me for every little thing, John. It's what friends d-" He blanched suddenly, surprised at how easily that statement had left his mouth, and how quickly it dissolved at recognition. Did he just willingly call someone a friend? Blinking quickly, he realised that despite his shock, he had utterly meant every word. How curious.

John barley stoped himself for chuckling, but he did side glance the now still Consulting Detective. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" He couldn't stop the grin that found it's way on his face, when he saw the shocked look on his friends face "I know I didn't just hear what I thought I heard...? I think Hell just froze over." This time he doesn't stop the chuckle that found it's way out of him.

He giggled more at the pouty Dectective. "Just bursting with surprises today huh?"

Sherlock grined in response to John's laughter, unable to help himself. "Yes, yes, go ahead and laugh, John Watson. I'll be damned if I ever make that mistake again." Remembering something, he chuckled darkly. "Speaking of surprises, I just remembered one I had left in the kitchen. May I borrow your jumper?" Without waiting for a response, he lifted the sweater up and over his flatmate's head, mindful of the injured shoulder. He proceeded to wipe up a questionable orange goo from the counter, leaving a stunned-looking John Watson in his wake.

John blinked in complete suprise. "Sherlock! That one was a gift from my sister!" He couldn't help but laugh at how halarious the situration just got* Your going to be the one to deal with Harry after this not me! I'm so taking your coat as payback!"

Sherlock Froze, he whipped around to face John, surely he must be joking? Flinging the forgotten jumper behind him, he rushed forward to save his beloved coat. He pinned the other man with a glare that would have frightened any other man. "There is a difference between a jest and chaos, John." Inspecting the coat for signs of damage, he cradled it to his chest, looking oddly similar to a boy with a puppy.

John burst out in laughter. "My God man, you act like that coat is your bloody blankey from when you were a kid." He grinned. "You need to get a girlfriend soon." He smirks "I could always give Irene a call for you. Crazy fangirl of yours. Fine, your coat is safe for now, but your washing that Jumper, no buts about it, and no getting Mrs. Hudson to do it for you. That or the Scarf gets it." He smirk evily.

Sherlock fixed him with a disbelieving stare. "Never mock my coat. And I'm sure Ms. Adler has her hands full." He gave a crooked grin. "Your jumper may be returned with irrefutable damage, however. Don't expect an apology. And do not even think about touching my scarf."

"Whatever, keep your crummy, yet cool looking coat." He rolled his eyes. "And your blasted scarf. I swear, were do you get your clothe from? Hogwarts or something?" He smiled. "I don't know she'd drop anything to flirt with you again." shivers and makes a hissy noise.

"Crummy? What are you talking about, crummy?" He couldn't help but grin at the reference, only to give John a questioning look at the odd sound that emanated from his throat.

"Oh shut it and take a joke." He rolled his eyes again "I'm still mentally damaged by seeing that woman in her birthday suit, casually walking around..." He shivers again at the image. "Once is good enough..." He chuckled, taking a sip of his cold tea.

The tall man grined at successfully having annoyed his companion. "I do not see why you would be damaged. You definitely did not appear to suffer through the experience. In fact, if I recall correctly, you were looking 'in all the right places'?"

John twitched "Oiy! I have a cup, and I'm not afraid of using it!" He lifted up his half empty tea cup in warning before bringing it back to his lips to drink the rest, mumbling into the cup before he does "BloodyAsexuralmyass.."

The dark haired man merely grined in response to the threat, never flinching. "Very observant, Doctor. You do indeed have a cup." His smirk grew at catching John's remark. "And do know that if you get a drop of that cold brew on my coat, your limp would cease to be pretend."

He smirked, barley stoping himself from sticking his tounge at his curly haired friend. "Yes Dectective. A cup that will soon be going soomewhere were not even your long limbs can reach." He grined wider as he puts the cup back on the table "Oh stop fussing, i'm not going to touch your expensive coat. Goodness, you'd save that bloody thing before me, if it ever came to that."  
>he laughed<p>

Sherlock pouted before actually considering it. The coat or the soldier...? No, he'd never accidently called the coat his friend. "While your meaningless threats are amusing John, I felt the need to reassure myself that your... bravado... did not get out of hand."

He turns to back to look at Sherlock. "Bravado? By that you mean...?"

He gaves a deadpan before realising that he was serious. He faked an exasperated sigh. "'Bravado: a bold manner or a show of boldness intended to impress or intimidate'. Really John, do read more."

"I know bloody well what it means Sherlock..." He stared at Sherlock with such a stare that if it was anyone else, they would have stept back a few feet "What I don't know is why you MUST use that word in all the words on this planet with me..."

Sherlock Suddenly, found himself repressing conflicting urges to flinch or laugh. He easily chose the latter, flashing a charming smile that he knew his flatmate would see right through. "Because it annoys you, obviously."

"Not in the good kind of way..." John growled his comment more then spoke it. His glare was low and thunderous. The warning that nobody dared cross with him. In a flash the easy-going John was gone, subsituted with the army-John "Don't use words like that on me Sherlock..." His words were quiet yet downed with unease, he meant it.

"Oh, do calm down, John." Sherlock rolled his eyes, unaware that he was practically begging to be punched. "I do not see why you appear so offended when that was not my intention." He leaned back in his chair, calmly folding his arms behind his head. "Is there a reason you don't care for the word?"

"Many reasons Sherlock. All of them another factor why I feel wrong about this Award..." The good Doctor reached out for the empty cup on the table, just needing to hold something, anything. He didn't want to breakdown again infront of Sherlock. Not twice in the same night. "Bravery. Something everyone says I have...if only they knew how wrong they were..." He tighten his hold on the cup once more. The preasure, making it crack slightly "Anyways forget it...can we just go back to bickering...please.."

Sherlock began having an uncomfortable feeling starting in the pit of his stomach. That was odd. Was he feeling... guilty? That didn't usually happen. Besides, he didn't intentionally do anything wrong. He sat up again, looking John in the eyes. He noted the teacup clutched in his hands, worrying about the abuse it was receiving. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down. "Uh, my apologies. Won't happen again." *He looked back up again, ensuring the honesty of his remark. He internally wondered what his flatmate meant by 'how wrong' everyone was... He decided to drop it, slightly concerned by his friend's silence. "I was only joking. I-I'm sorry, John." Did he just stutter? Why did he stutter? Was he... anxious? That definitely seemed like a fitting word for the knots coiling in his stomach.

"It's okay..." He glanced into Sherlock's eyes for a few seconds, nodding "But don't...really it's nothing. It's me who should be sorry. I-I didn't want to snap at you honestly..." He droped his voice, letting the cup fall into his palm and out of his vice-like grip. "I can't help it sometimes..." He quickly drew back his mask again with a gentle smile. "I know it was a joke, no worries. All's forgiven." He shut his eyes, no longer able to look at the guilty expression on the young mans face. "Please stop with the hurt-kitten look. It's really getting to me. He chuckled looking him in the eye again, his eyes somewhat brighter then before.

All was silent for awhile, until finally Sherlock spoke up. "...Hurt kitten...?" He raised a brow. "It's quite all right, John. And I'll 'let it go', so to speak." He leaned back again, closing his eyes and resuming his former relaxed position. He briefly contemplated all of John's words, deducing and accepting their meaning. His mind returned to the bit about the kitten, confused about its meaning. "Though please do explain that phrase of yours. I don't believe it is one I'm familiar with."

He chuckled slightly "I never told you this but, you remind me of a kitten I and Harry once had as children. His name was Smokey. Oddly enough, he looked alot like you, oly in kitten form. He was a dark grey color. Big pale blue eyes, kinda like yours. The hurt kitten look came from him too. He would know when he was in trouble so he's give us this cutle little "I'm sorry, I wont do it again." kinda looks and we'd always forgiven him cause he was so damn cute. So thats what you have." The exact same Hurt-Kitten face He grined "It's adorable, and I don't regret saying that." laughing John set the cup back down finally, giving Sherlock a small grin

He said nothing, but a small smile crept upon his lips. He was trying to imagine his friend as a child, playing with a tiny kitten that looked like him. No matter how hard he tried, his massive brain could not conjure the image. Though from the sound of it, they were similar in their intelect as well, considering the thing could force John to pity it. Impressive. "Good to know that I'm 'adorable', Dr. Watson. I'll keep that in mind the next time I need help cleaning up an experiment." His smile grew, once again gaining that charm that only John knew was false.

All he could do was chuckle. "Only that look, every other one makes me want to roll my eyes and gag myself." He smirked in his direction "Myabe instead of a girlfriend I could by you a kitten instead. You look like a cat person to me" He giggles at his own thought. "Maybe het it a little replica scarf too. Now that would be adorable."

Sherlock made a 'hmmph' sound at the minor insult, but it grew to a chuckle at the suggestion of a cat. Which once again changed to a look of horror at the mention of getting it a scarf. "You can't be serious. It would likely step on it and choke, or it might wander into one of my tests..." He trailed off at the realisation that he was worrying about a theoretical kitten. Ridiculous. "Besides, who would be around enough to take care of the beast?"

He chuckled "Your perfect for a pet. Already the Mother Hen type. Calm yourself Sherlock, you know Mrs. Hudson would throw it a bloody party every day." Watson rolled his eyes "The scarf would be tiny. Not the size of yours, God no. I bet somone could make one. We could make the flat to were it's fenced off for it, just in case your worried about it getting into your work."

His face took on his carefully composed mask, completely devoid of emotion. His fingers tented automatically at his lips, and he pondered the idea. A kitten? Would he want a kitten? "Mother Hen?" He opened his eyes briefly enough to glare at his flatmate. "It's true, she would spoil the thing." He was murmuring to himself now, actually considering the thought. "Where and when would you get it?"

"Your birthday maybe. Or Christmas. If we do get one. I'd like it to be on a special day." He lets his head fall on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. "Unless you have any objections of course."

"Hmm. That would be acceptable. And no objections thusfar. Though, I wouldn't hold me to that word, if I were you." He smiles gently against his fingers. It would be a lovely present.

"Glad to here. I'd love a pet. Might eat up the mice I saw run around here...bloody creatures." He smiled, about to close his eyes when his phone goes off, he picks it up and looks at the name. "...Of course, who else would call in the middle of the night...I gusse your brother's grown impatient for me..."

He smirked, knowing it would be Mycroft before John had looked at the phone. "Go on, then, John. Tell him you accept." He gestured unnecessarily in the air with a hand, the other still hiding his smile. "But please, in everyone's best interest, do not mention any cat."

He was still on his phones keyboard, his mind wavering the desion he had before him "..."

He stayed quiet, letting his turmoil clash with itself over and over again in his mind. 'Am I doing this for my mates...of for myself...' he thought. His hand shook slightly but it was barley visible, he read over and over the message Mycroft sent him, thinking if it truly was for the best, or would the dead soon haunt him for his attention seeking. He sighed hopefully not loudly enough to get Sherlock to pay attention to him, staring at his phone with lost eyes.

Hearing the phone continue to ring, he sat up, curious. Seeing the dilema in his friend's face, he soon deduced the problem. He was still having second thoughts. Maybe he needed help. "John, remember, they phoned you. You weren't the one who asked for this." Could he possibly feel guilty for gaining the attention he so rightfully deserved? That sounded very much like John. "Choose what you will, but know that you didn't go looking for this." He laid back down, letting his flatmate make his own decisions.

Watson's eyes went from Sherlocks form back to the phone, he knew he still felt unease about it, bu he'd make a vow to his friends. 'I hope you mates know...this award isn't for me...it's for you. It always will be. I'll make sure to drop by and show it to you all...' With his thoughts finally cleared he finally set in his acception, sending it in without another thought. "..Done." He sighed, putting down the phone with shakey hands before making his way back to ait near the couch besides Sherlock. He felt drained. He felt, almost relieved. "I accepted it..."

Opening his eyes, Sherlock smiled at his friend. "Good. You - as well as your troops - deserve it. Of course you do. Now - never thought I'd be the one telling you this - just relax, John." He quirked a smile before once again falling back with his hand behind his head.

He smiled at how odd it sounded comming from the other way around. Sherlock of all people telling him to relax. 'Strange day...' he thought. He chuckled, ruffling Sherlocks dark curls as he got up and went to put the empty and abused tea cup in the sink. "Sherlock, your going with me to the award ceremony right?"

"Of course." The response was instantaneous, not even questionable. If John wanted him there, it was obvious he would attend. He ran a hand through the messed locks, snaking his way through the tangles of soft hair. "When exactly did Mycroft say that would be?"

Good. He felt alittle better at how fast Sherlock responded. "Nothing of importance really. If your worried about a surprise ambush, trying to turn you into a Knight, don't worry, I think you'll be fine. I think i'm the one who needs to worry about that" He chuckled, comming back from the kitchen. He sats on the floor infront of the couch, his back leaning against it next to Sherlock.

"Hmm. All right." He shifted around suddenly, ending up lying on his side with his back to the seat of the couch. "Remind me again why I put up with my brother?" He pressed his face into the seats, breathing in the familiarity. He heard John sit down on the floor beside he and smiled into the cushions. Of course he would never interupt Sherlock's position on the couch.

"The same reason I put up with my sister. No matter how much we may dislike them at times...we still deep, deep, DEEP inside...love them, and will do whatever we could for our siblings." John smiled at how wise he sounds "Anyways he run the bloody country half the time. Cut him a break." They laughed shortly. John rested his head on Sherlocks side, too tire to give a damn anymore. "I have a question to ask by the way...before I totally lose you to your mind palace or whatever you call it."

He sighed, knowing his friend was completely convinced with his ideas of love and affection for familiy. Knowing there was no way he could dissuade him. Or object. "Yes, right. Love." Somehow he managed to make the word sound ridiculous. His curiousity perked a bit as he spoke of a question. He was completely unaware of his hand twirling loosely in the other man's short blonde hair. He was too busy mentally packing for his vacation at his palace. Physical connections were trivial and unimportant. "And what would that question be, John?"

He relaxed even more as he felt the hands in his shot sandy hair, as if touch alone could calm him without word. "..Well after the Award thing...I um..I wondered if it would be alright with you if I could show it to a few friends of mine...I mean we don't have to, I know how you want to jump on the next case as soon as possible and all..." he sighed "Nevermind it's a bad idea, you don't even really know them..plus they're in a.." he coughed roughly "in a graveyard...I know..yeah..." He suddered at his own self confidence in his words, regretting them as soon as speeking them.

Sherlock retreated enough out of his mind to hear what the Doctor had to say. Something about showing the award to his friends? But his friends were... oh, yes, he was perfectly aware that those friends were in a cemetary. He glanced down at the man, surprised to find his fingers combing gently through his hair. When did that happen? Oh well. John was going off about how silly his idea was, and Sherlock really should stop him before his self-conscious habits get the best of him. "John, I would be perfectly fine with waiting on the cases. I do have one question, though." He smiled softly, resuming his gentle stroking.

John shook out of his rambiling and smiles alittle weakly, good he thought to himself, he'd get to atleast let his friends see not his award..but theirs. That was all it took to brighten the mans day. He finally realized Sherlock asking him something. "Um, yeah, what is it Sherlock?"

It took a moment for him to remember what the question was. Was this what it is like to feel sleepy? Probably."Oh, yes. Would you like me to accompany you to show this award? I would understand if you'd rather go alone..." He trailed off, leaving the Doctor to choose as he pleased.

"No, no..I...I was actually hopeing you would come. I've always wanted them to meet you." He laughed nervously "I would like for you to meet my mates. If your okay with that..." John looked up to the man above him, with a hopeful look in his eye.

He raised his head to catch and hold John's eye. He smiled, pleased. "It would be my pleasure to meet your friends." With that, his head returned to the sofa, and his hand continued to play in the sandy locks. The smile continued to curve at his lips, even as sleepiness continued to wash over him in waves.

John smiles back, finally pleased with everything once again. He yawned, feeling his legs getting sore from being on the ground too long but he didn't mind. He yawned too tired to get up. "Thanks y'know...for everything today. For the advice, the comfort, the apolegy. Everything. These kinda moments make me even more proud to have you as a friend..." He blinked, feeling his eyes grow heavy. "I know your tired of hearing the non-stop thank you's but..your wrothe them all..."

Faintly he heard John thank him. Why was he still talking? Couldn't he tell that they were both minutes from sleep? Either way, Sherlock was too groggy to call him on it, instead opting for a wide yawn and a distant nod of his head. "You're welcome, John. And you of all people should no that I never tire of praise." He managed a sleepy smile. "I'm proud to have you as my friend, too, you know." He didn't even falter as the words slipped easily from his mouth. He didn't regret them.

John snuggled into Sherlock's side alittle more, manuvering himself just enough to get as close as possible to the couch without being on it, he smiled sleeply. "Well in that case, my friend. Goodnight. Have fun in your bloody palace." John gave a quiet chuckled before closing his eyes shut, his grin still never leaving his face.

He felt his friend shift beside him so they were nearly sharing the sofa. He smiled at the man's sleep-filled voice, chuckling at his joke. "'Night, John." His eyes fell shut of their own accord, and the last thing he remembered before drifted from consciousness was the softness of John's hair and the smell of their flat.

THE END.


End file.
